


Fever Dream

by Sergeant_Sporks



Series: A Window to the Past [3]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Wizards: Tales of Arcadia
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Angst, Sickfic, Touch-Starved, Whump, parental Archie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sergeant_Sporks/pseuds/Sergeant_Sporks
Summary: Douxie gets sick, and Archie is left to take care of him. Which is a little bit difficult when one is a cat.
Series: A Window to the Past [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128017
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Fever Dream

Archie shivered. Winter was approaching—the nights were getting colder and longer. He glanced around to make sure that no one was looking, then shapeshifted into a snake, wriggling through a tiny crack into the apothecary, where he turned back into a cat. He crept quietly through the shop and house, wondering where Douxie slept.

The answer was apparently a couple of blankets in the corner of the basement. Archie sniffed. It was just as cold in here as it was outside. He padded softly to the blanket pile and nudged it. Douxie poked his head out. He was shivering, and he held out his scratched-up hands.

“Are you c-cold, t-t-too? C’mere, it’s w-warmer under the—the blankets.”

Archie slipped under the blankets. For someone who was shivering up a storm, Douxie sure was warm. The boy cuddled up with him, shivering so violently Archie was relatively certain he was vibrating with him.

“Wish I had—had fur,” Douxie murmured, hugging Archie.

It was an uncomfortable way to sleep, but Archie didn’t move. He sniffed in. Urgh. Something smelled _off_. He told himself that the blankets just needed to be washed. Or Douxie—kid didn’t exactly smell like a flower.

Archie slipped off into an uneasy doze that was interrupted when a beam of light came from the door. “Get up,” Fenlock’s voice growled roughly, and everything shifted, like he’d kicked Douxie. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Douxie moaned, rolling up into a sitting position. “’m coming,” he murmured dazedly.

Fenlock went back to the door. “Good! Get moving!”

Archie blinked groggily, then hissed. Douxie’s back was soaked with sweat, and he was radiating heat like a pint-sized furnace. Archie didn’t know if he’d caught something, or if one of those cuts or bites had finally gotten infected, but the boy was sick. That was the smell—the smell of sickness.

Douxie lurched to his feet, and Archie grabbed his pant leg in his mouth, tugging. He needed rest, not to push himself!

Douxie tugged his leg away. “Lemme go,” he said blearily, “I’ve got… chores…”

He stumbled towards the stairs, shivering. Archie chased after him, running ahead and jumping up a few stairs ahead. He meowed loudly, arching his back.

Douxie bent down and picked him up, his hands shaky and clammy. “’m alright,” he promised, “Just a little bit… dizzy. And c-cold.”

“HISIRDOUX!” Fenlock shouted.

Douxie lurched up the rest of the stairs. “C-coming,” he called back. He made a quick trip to the back door to put Archie outside. “Don’t worry about me,” he whispered, “Just don’t let Fenlock see you in the house!”

He closed the door, and Archie shook himself, jumping up onto the windowsill to peer in the glass. Douxie was moving slowly—apparently too slowly for Fenlock, who grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him over to the kitchen, pointing out dirty dishes. Archie waited for Douxie to come outside, lugging a huge bucket towards the well, then slipped inside before the door could shut. He crept into the apothecary, waiting. Watching. Customers came and went, getting remedies for problems all over the place. One wanted a cure for baldness. Another wanted to get rid of their acne. Another had a rat problem and wanted poison. But none of them, _none_ of them, needed a cure for a fever.

There was a clatter from the kitchen, and Archie crept behind Fenlock, who pushed open the kitchen door. Douxie was scrambling to pick up a bunch of pots that had fallen. Fenlock crouched down next to him.

“Hisirdoux,” he said in a scarily even voice, “Did you just clean those?”

Douxie coughed, a horrible, throat-racking sound, and Archie fought the urge to run past Fenlock and comfort the boy. “Y-yes, sir,” he said hoarsely.

“And you just dropped them all over the floor?”

“Y-yes.”

Fenlock leaned in. “Then they got all dirty again, didn’t they?”

Douxie shivered, his eyes glassy from fever. “I don’t… I don’t feel too good.”

Fenlock stood back up. “Clean them again,” he ordered, “Then clean the floor.”

“And then?” Douxie asked hopefully.

“And then we’ll see,” Fenlock responded, going back out at a tiny bell sound. Archie darted into the kitchen after he was gone.

Douxie was crying and shivering and coughing all at the same time. “I… can’t…” he sniffled, “I… c-c-can’t—”

Archie rubbed against Douxie’s leg, wishing there was something else he could do. Douxie clumsily patted his head, sniffed, and wiped his face.

“You sh-shouldn’t be in here,” he reminded Archie, then looked around the kitchn. “Just gotta… gotta get this done…” he murmured, half dazed. He picked one pot up, lugging it back to the bin of hot water. Archie pushed the rest towards the bin with his head. The fewer trips he had to make, the better.

Douxie finished slowly, agonizingly slowly. He stared bleakly at the floor, shoulders racked with coughs. Then he overturned the bin of water onto the floor.

“Th-there. Clean.”

Archie suppressed a laugh. Really, it shouldn’t have been funny. He followed Douxie back down to the cold basement, the two of them sneaking back behind Fenlock’s back. Douxie curled up in his blankets. Archie tugged one of them over him, pressing his head against Douxie’s forehead. His fever was getting worse. So was the cough, he noted as Douxie broke into a fit of coughing, his shoulders heaving. He started to head back upstairs, but Douxie reached out with a trembling hand.

“Wait,” he said faintly, “Kitty, don’t—” he broke off in another round of lung-hacking coughing. “Don’t leave,” he gasped, “Please.”

Archie hesitated. He wanted to keep an eye on Fenlock. But… he sighed to himself, walking back and curling up against Douxie’s chest. Douxie shivered, his trembling fingers scratching behind Archie’s ears.

“Y-you’re my b-best friend,” he told Archie.

Despite the situation, Archie felt a purr rise up in his throat. _You’re my best friend, too_ , he wanted to say back. He didn’t know why he still hadn’t spoken to Douxie. It wasn’t like there was anyone he could tell, and goodness only knew that the boy needed a friend to talk to. But still… something pulled him towards Douxie, something outside of his affection for the boy. Until he could figure out what that something was, he wasn’t quite willing to blow his cover.

Douxie fell into a hazy fever-dream state, mumbling something about giant butterflies, and Archie wriggled out of his grip. Douxie shifted at the sudden warmth loss, whimpering in his sleep, but Archie made himself ignore it, going back upstairs to watch Fenlock.

And just in time, too.

“A fever?”

A woman wrung her hands, sniffing. “Yes, a fever with a horrible cough—the doctor says it’s not the plague, but—”

Archie hissed quietly. The plague. He hadn’t even considered… and Douxie _had_ gotten attacked by rats not that long ago. Was it possible…

“Of course, ma’am,” Fenlock was saying smoothly, “Let’s see…” he got on a stool, reaching for a high shelf. Archie watched intently, waiting to see what he brought out. A small pack of powder, and a few dried leaves. “Mix the slippery elm powder with water,” he instructed, “Give it to your child and it will help with the cough. As for the fever, making a tea from the elderberry leaves will induce sweating, which should help the fever process.”

Archie growled softly. Fenlock could help Douxie. He had cures for whatever was wrong with him. He was just choosing to let Douxie suffer.

The woman reached for them. “H-how much?”

“One pence each,” Fenlock said smoothly, “One and a half for the lot.”

Archie hissed again. That was a lot. He wondered whether the medicine was actually hard to make or find. More likely, Fenlock was fleecing a woman with a sick child.

The woman sucked in a deep breath. “I…”

“I’m the only apothecary in this part of Camelot,” Fenlock said quietly, “If you want to go up to the ritzier areas, you might be able to find another one, but I don’t think their prices will be as good as mine.”

The woman opened her purse, taking out a single coin. “I… I’ll take the tea leaves. But…”

“Of course, of course,” Fenlock said smoothly, all a grinning salesman. “It’s just a cough. I’m sure that part will go away on its own.”

The woman nodded, and Fenlock snatched up her coin, wrapping the leaves up and handing them to her. “Thank you for your business.”

Archie watched him like a hawk as he put the medicines back. He had to find a way to get Fenlock out of the shop so that he could get those medicines. He slipped out of the back door to where the dogs were sitting.

“Alright, you lot, you’re not much, but you’ll have to do.”

The dogs gave him a quizzical look.

“Yes, yes, I can talk. Now, do you two want to help Douxie?”

At Douxie’s name, their tails thumped, and one of them let out a plaintive whine.

“Mmm, yes, fantastic, glad we’re on the same page, there. I’m not exactly sure how much you understand, but Douxie… isn’t doing too well. He needs something that Fenlock isn’t giving to him.”

The dogs growled.

“Yes, that’s the spirit. Now, I can steal what Douxie needs, but I need Fenlock out of the shop for a quick moment while I do. Can you two get him out here?”

The dogs tilted their heads at him.

“Hm. Yes, I suppose that might be a bit over your heads. Just bark. A lot. Like there’s something wrong.”

More confused looks.

Archie sighed. “Oh, for the love of… I don’t know why I bothered. Fine.” He bit down on one of their tails, and the dog started yelping and growling. The other dog joined in until they were barking up a storm. Archie grinned.

“Perfect, keep it up.” He slipped back into the house as Fenlock came back towards the kitchen.

“Hisirdoux, shut those two—oh, where is that brat?” He pushed the door open, going out to the dogs. Archie went into the shop, turning into a dragon and flapping up to the shelves where Fenlock kept the slippery elm and elderberry leaves. He grabbed them, landing back on the floor as a cat.

Just in the nick of time, as Fenlock came back in. The apothecary yelled in surprise, his face turning red.

“Hey! Give those here, you little thief!”

Archie dodged his grab, running out into the kitchen. Fenlock charged after him, but slipped on the wet kitchen floor, sliding and hitting his head on the counter. He pushed himself up, lurching and staggering.

“Urgh—you… get back…”

Archie wound through his legs, tripping him up. He fell again, and this time, he didn’t get up.

“Oh, he is _not_ going to be pleased when he wakes up,” Archie muttered. He checked to make sure that Fenlock was well and truly out, then concentrated on his form, shifting into something bigger. Something human. He wiggled his fingers. Those were odd. Still, it would be easier for making the medicine.

Archie caught sight of his reflection in a pot and chuckled quietly. He looked like Douxie, or at least what Douxie would probably look like when he hit his teen years. Archie picked up a kettle, filling it with water from a rain barrel. He glanced around, then turned back into a dragon, using his fire to heat the water before turning back to his human form. He put the leaves in one cup, seeping them, and put the powder in another, stirring it up with a spoon.

Fenlock started to stir on the ground, and Archie hit him with a skillet to keep him down. A tiny glimmer of satisfaction sparked in his chest as Fenlock dropped back off with a groan, and a small, dragonlike growl escaped his throat.

“That’s for Douxie,” he hissed.

Archie hoisted the big man up, dragging him up to a bedroom and dropping him on the bed. Maybe if he woke up here, he’d just assume he had a very bad hangover. After all, Douxie was much too small to get Fenlock into a bed, so how else would he have gotten there? Archie closed the door and went back down, taking the leaves out of the tea and carrying both cups down the basement stairs.

The pile of blankets that was Douxie stirred. “Hngh?”

Archie knelt down next to him, helping him sit up. “Douxie. Come on, you need to wake up. I’ve got something to make you feel better.”

“Don’t… wanna get up…” Douxie’s eyes were unfocused, glazed, but he turned them up towards Archie. “Who…?” he murmured, tensing.

“I’m a friend,” Archie promised, “I’m sorry, I know you want to sleep, but you need to drink this. Both of these.”

Douxie shook his head. “Don’t want to,” he mumbled crossly, his eyes already half closed.

Archie held the tea up to his mouth. “C’mon,” he wheedled, “It’s to help you get better. Don’t you want to get better?”

Douxie shook his head again. “S-smells gross. Like the shop.”

“It smells like that because it’s medicine, Douxie, c’mon, drink it.”

Douxie took a sip, and then spit it out. “Hot!” he mewled.

Archie set the tea aside, holding up the cough medicine instead. “Okay, okay. I’ll let it cool. Try this instead.”

Douxie slumped against Archie, his little body so hot that it was almost painful to touch him. “Don’t want to.”

“C’mon, Douxie. I’m trying to help. This isn’t hot, I promise.”

Douxie glared at him with fever-hazed eyes, but drank the cough medicine. “Bleh.”

“That’s it,” Archie soothed, “Good.”

Douxie finished the cough medicine and leaned back, his eyes mostly closed. “You’re warm,” he murmured.

Archie hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Douxie. The boy tensed.

“What are you…?” Douxie’s voice trailed off in a weak, high-pitched way.

Archie blinked. “I’m… giving you a hug.”

“O-oh.” Douxie sighed, relaxing again. “That’s… nice...”

It hit Archie with a pang in his chest as he realized that if Douxie had grown up with Fenlock, he probably hadn’t ever had a hug before. He hugged Douxie tighter at the thought. “You ready for your other medicine now?”

“No,” Douxie mumbled sleepily.

Archie lifted the cup back up. “Alright. Come on. Just try it.”

Douxie sipped at the tea, his face twisting up. “Sour,” he complained.

“It’ll help you get better,” Archie promised, “Come on.”

Douxie slowly sipped the tea, Archie tilting the cup back for him. With some maneuvering with his foot, Archie managed to get one of Douxie’s blankets over to him and he wrapped the little human up. Douxie snuggled up against his chest, his breathing short and fast, as if any deeper breath would send him off on a coughing fit.

“Why do you trust me?” Archie asked quietly. Sure, he was Douxie’s beloved cat, but _Douxie_ didn’t know that.

“You said you’re my friend,” Douxie murmured sleepily.

“And you believe me?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Douxie replied with a sigh of content, his eyes shut.

Archie didn’t say anything after that, instead just letting him sleep. Douxie shifted restlessly, murmuring quietly. The coughing medicine seemed to be doing its work, because any coughs were limited to one here or there, instead of the major fits.

But the fever was getting higher.

Douxie’s forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was still hot to the touch. Archie checked to make sure he was asleep, then gently laid him down and turned into his dragon form, breathing fire in the air to heat the room up. Had he taken the wrong medicine? This was supposed to help the fever, he’d thought!

Douxie got more restless, moaning. Archie changed back into his human form, checking Douxie’s temperature with the back of his hand. Hot. Too hot. If his fever didn’t break soon…

Douxie’s eyes cracked open just a little, and he struggled to get up, the blankets wrapped around him. Archie caught him as he swayed. “Whoa, hold on a tick! Where are you going?”

“Thirsty,” Douxie croaked, struggling to get past Archie to the door.

“Okay, hold on.” Archie swept Douxie up, carrying him up the stairs. The kitchen was probably warmer than the basement, anyway.

Douxie struggled against him. “F-Fenlock—”

“Fenlock’s in his room,” Archie promised, “He’s got a nasty headache.”

Douxie fell back onto him. “O-oh. Did I get him sick?”

Archie felt a grin creep across his face. “No. He just had a bit of a disagreement with a pot. Don’t worry about him.” He set the shivering Douxie on his feet, filling a cup from the rain barrel. “There you go.”

One little hand extended from the blanket bundle, and Douxie gulped the water down. The clay cup slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor. Douxie promptly burst into tears. Archie carefully kicked some of the clay pieces away and picked Douxie up again, moving him out of the shatter radius.

“I’ve got it,” he promised Douxie, setting him down near the cookfire, “You just stay there, and stay warm.”

Douxie nodded with a shiver, and Archie picked up the broken pieces of clay, depositing them in the rubbish bin. He turned back to Douxie, who had already fallen asleep next to the fire, shivering. Archie sighed. What else could he do?

Douxie whimpered in his sleep, and Archie hesitantly reached out and stroked his head. Always made him feel better. To his surprise, Douxie seemed to calm at the touch, shifting and making tiny mewls of displeasure when Archie removed his hand.

“Goodness, you’re more like a cat than I am sometimes,” Archie said, a little bit amused despite his worry. He put his hand back on Douxie’s head, and Douxie reached up, grabbing the hand and clutching it to his chest like a teddy bear. Archie felt a tiny smile creep over his face, his hand moving with the quick rise and fall of Douxie’s chest. Douxie’s hands were uncomfortably hot, but Archie didn’t move.

Somewhere around an hour later, Douxie’s breathing evened out, his breaths longer and slower. Archie checked his forehead. His fever had broken and was going down. Archie’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a sigh of relief. He heard a groan from another room, and he quickly changed into a cat, curling up on Douxie’s chest. Oh, yes. This was much better. Human senses were so much duller.

Fenlock opened the door, clutching his head. He caught sight of Douxie sleeping by the fire and frowned. Archie growled softly, just enough to let him know that if he got any closer, Archie _would_ bite him. Fenlock grumbled something about Douxie being more trouble than he was worth, grabbed a cup of water and left the kitchen. Archie’s growl shifted to a purr as Douxie opened his eyes.

“Hey, kitty,” he croaked, one hand stroking Archie’s head and back, “I had the weirdest dream… there was this person, and they made me drink something nasty, but they were really nice…” He sat up, hugging Archie. He was still too hot, but he was getting better. “M-maybe they were a fairy?”

Archie bit back a laugh. Close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone was interested, Fenlock basically was charging the 9th century equivalent of 40 bucks for some cough syrup and Ibuprofen


End file.
